


goldwork (or adaptations)

by cryptidlibrarian



Category: The Wayhaven Chronicles (Interactive Fiction)
Genre: Disabled Character, F/F, Murphy made Certain Threats and i made him commit to them, Physical Disability, bobby route but you don't have to worry about him, fade to black sexual content, fantasy prosthetic, set during book 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:41:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24369769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cryptidlibrarian/pseuds/cryptidlibrarian
Summary: “Don’t think I’ve done a good enough job, if you’re getting up again.”“Can’t sleep with this on.”“Want some help?”
Relationships: Female Detective/Morgan (The Wayhaven Chronicles)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 51





	goldwork (or adaptations)

_“Yeah? Something wrong?”_

“Yes, there really is.”

_“Why?_ ”

“Will you just come over-”

_“Yes.”_

_Click._

♛ ♥ ♛

The door to Liberty’s apartment is closed but unlocked- a good thing, because after that brusque, tense call, Morgan was entirely ready to break it in if it didn’t open immediate.

Liberty is sitting on the floor just inside the doorway- sitting next to a man, lying flat on his back and making quiet, pained noises, his face and neck a mess of blue flesh and blisters. More importantly, though, Liberty looks uninjured, though her expression is taut and angry. It eases as she meets Morgan’s eyes, and she lets out a breath, her shoulders sagging ever so slightly. She must be tired, Morgan realises, to be so open- to show so much weakness. The room behind her looks… oddly different. But it isn’t a mess. It doesn’t look like a fight’s occurred, and Morgan abandons any further attention to the differences. There’s more pressing matters at hand.

Liberty holds out a hand, and Morgan takes it automatically, pulling her up to her feet. She’s still dressed as she was for the carnival, that tight dress that made Morgan want to give up the mission and explore the back seat of her shitty little hatchback with her, and the slight golden shine of the wire wrapped around her legs, just visible through the silky fabric of her stockings. Morgan drags her eyes back up.

“We need to get him to the warehouse,” Liberty says, cutting straight to business as usual, as she dusts off her skirt. “Did you drive?”

“I’m faster on foot, sweetheart. Didn’t want to keep you waiting.” The flirtation is automatic, even as Morgan is moving to haul the man up over her shoulder.

“We’ll take my car then.” Liberty’s lips purse together, the velvety red of her lipstick making the pout even more distracting. She steps out of the way, letting Morgan through, and heads out after her. She already has her jacket and purse- either prepared in the short time between call and Morgan’s arrival, or she hadn’t had the chance to set them down or put them away.

They leave for the warehouse, mystery man twitching and groaning in the back seat.

♛ ♥ ♛

Liberty is tired. Her back aches, and her head is rattling full of too many questions, too many possibilities, but she’s far too tired to actually think properly about any of them. And the sun is already up. This nonsense with Bobby and the carnival people has eaten up the entirety of her ‘normal’ sleep schedule for the night.

It’s at least too early for anyone else in the building to be up. It gives her and Morgan a little privacy, as they walk to her front door.

“You’re quiet.”

Liberty huffs. “Not your usual complaint,” she replies, arching an eyebrow as she comes to a stop in front of her door. 

Morgan leans against the wall next to the door. Any interruption to her sleep doesn’t show at all- she’s still just as gorgeous as ever. “Didn’t know if you were worried about your, uh…” Liberty rolls her eyes at the lazy smile. “Your _friend_.”

She already knows she’s going to regret letting Morgan know that Bobby is her ex, so she doesn’t bother replying. She pokes in her purse for her keys.

“The Agency will keep him alive. No point worrying.”

“I’m not _worried_ about him,” Liberty replies, her lip curling. “I’m angry.” Morgan just raises her eyebrows, but Liberty doesn’t need much prompting to continue. “They invaded my home. He _and_ they interrupted any chance of a good night’s sleep. So I’m angry, and tired, and-” She stops, drawing a deep breath, and pinches the brow of her nose. Then she shoves her hand back in her purse, finds the keys this time on the first try, and shoves them in the lock.

“Maybe I should come in.” 

Liberty pauses, her hand on the doorhandle, and looks to the side. Morgan’s gaze is sultry, eyes half lidded and tongue wetting her lips. 

“Help you unwind a bit.” She gives a slow smile, and Liberty allows herself a moment, her eyebrows raised, to just admire the beautiful woman seducing her. Adam’s words appear fleetingly at the back of her mind, but they’re swept away- as Liberty presses her lips together, another concern pressing forwards.

“While I can’t say I’m opposed to the idea,” she starts. “There may be a few technical issues with that.”

Morgan’s eyes drift down, taking the long, luxurious path to Liberty’s legs. Liberty can’t deny the shiver it draws- she always loves Morgan _looking_ at her like that. They both know what Liberty is referring to. They both know what Murphy did, more than experiment with her blood, when he took her.

They both know that the only thing keeping her standing on her own two, insensate feet is the golden wire that threads and coils around her, the magic imbued in it giving her motion even as she cannot feel anything from her hips down.

But Morgan’s eyes don’t dull in their desire at all. And as they drag back up to Liberty’s face, the lazy smile just stretches wider.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” she replies.

It’s the right answer. Liberty makes that clear, in how she steps forwards, hand moving up to bury itself in the waves of Morgan’s hair, and kisses her. Morgan moves to meet her, both of them hungry for contact, demanding as the tension and wanting that has been building for months is suddenly given a release. Morgan presses forwards, stepping them back towards the door, while Liberty fumbles for the handle to let them inside.

♛ ♥ ♛

Liberty is tired. It’s a better sort of tired, now. She’s sweaty and happy and utterly exhausted, and she wants desperately to just doze off, sprawled across Morgan.

Instead, she heaves a sigh, and slowly levers herself up.

“Don’t think I’ve done a good enough job, if you’re getting up again,” Morgan purrs. 

Liberty turns to look at her, and can’t help but lick her lips at the sight of the long, lean lines of her, stretched out on her bed like a very satisfied cat.

Liberty’s hand moves to her own waist, Morgan’s eyes following, and she trails a touch along the gold wire that encircles her. “Can’t sleep with this on,” she says, voice unusually soft. Perhaps it’s tiredness, and perhaps it’s because of what they just shared, but she doesn’t feel as hostile to the idea of someone seeing this aspect of her life.

Morgan’s smile fades a little, a thoughtful flicker moving across her face. Then she sits up. “Want some help?” It sounds flirtatious- almost. She reaches out to touch at the wires, feeling that tingle of magic where her fingers come into contact, and somewhere in her mind she recognises that the process she’s offering to assist with isn’t likely to lead to more sex.

Liberty pauses, long enough for Morgan to glance up, looking to see if she’s uncomfortable with the suggestion. But Liberty gives a nod.

Liberty shifts, sitting on the bed with her legs stretched out before her. The wire doesn’t exactly lie atop her skin, but instead seems to have melted into it- if Morgan wasn’t so sensitive, she’d have hardly noticed it when previously running her hands over Liberty. Now she doesn’t touch with as much needy hunger. Liberty directs her with quiet murmurs, and she moves down the bed to sit by her feet.

The wire is coiled around her ankles, the end tied into a knot that to anyone else might pass as a decorative feature on an anklet. At Liberty’s touch, it comes undone- magically unspooling, and Morgan starts to lift it away from her. It leaves the skin behind unmarred, perfect, but Liberty’s expression shifts. Morgan stops immediately as she looks up.

Liberty shakes her head. “It just… feels odd,” she says, with a flicker of frustration. “It’s always like this.”

Morgan looks down. “You feel the wire? But…” She’d made it clear there wasn’t much point in touching below her waist. Morgan had focused her attentions on other areas instead. There are plenty other ways to make Liberty feel good.

“Not the flesh. Not even with that.” Liberty shrugs, pushing a wave of ink-black hair back over her shoulder. “Just wind it in a ball. Keep going.” A pause. “Please.”

It’s not a word that comes easily from Liberty. Morgan flickers a smile up at her, but she does as requested.

The wire is malleable, and the magic hums against Morgan’s fingers as she slowly works it from around each of Liberty’s toes, tugging apart the web woven about her feet. It’s more heavily concentrated there, than how it stretches up her legs, a single line up the back of her calf. Morgan’s fingers smooth over the length of Liberty’s shin, and she shuffles up the bed to better access her knee. The lattice becomes thicker there, bracing and supporting the joint. Separated from the wire, Liberty’s leg starts to slip down the bed. Morgan catches it, a hand under her knee, and she glances up at Liberty again.

She’s watching Morgan’s movements closely- and there’s an odd intensity to her gaze. The intimacy of this unexpected process isn’t lost on Morgan, but she doesn’t feel quite so bothered by it as she might otherwise expect to be. It would be a crass move, anyway, to abandon ship just because she needed to help her get off to sleep- not the sort of crass that Morgan enjoys.

As she winds the ball golden wire, the thread pulling away from Liberty’s thigh, she can’t help the trail of her eyes along the generous curves of her hips, almost studying how the web loops around the tops of her thighs like the band of a garter, following the crease inside her leg. Liberty isn’t selfconscious at all as Morgan draws her gaze across there- instead just leaning back on her elbows with a soft sigh, allowing Morgan to lift her hips as she winds the wire free.

Around Liberty’s waist is more wire, but this is separate to the thread that Morgan has drawn free. It’s more woven, a belt around the smallest point of her waspish waist, with loops that the other wire is hooked on. The knots again unfurl at the lightest touch from the bearer of the belt, and Morgan is free now to work her way back down the other leg.

Liberty sits up. It’s a different motion, not quite as elegant, as she uses her arms to lever herself up, and she reaches out to Morgan, pulling her in for another kiss. Morgan doesn’t mind this sort of interruption- and a hand slides around behind Liberty’s back to hold her in place.

“Thank you.” Morgan’s eyebrow raises. A smile quirks at Liberty’s lips. “It’s rather nicer, having help,” she explains. She leans back on her elbows.

Morgan pauses, before resuming work, a faint frown on her face.

They’d known something was wrong when they’d found Liberty, at the warehouse Murphy had dragged her to. Murphy had apparently freed her from her bonds, when he’d realised their presence, brought her with him as he attempted to choose the grounds of the battle to come. Liberty had yelled, alerting the unit to her location, but when they got there she was crumpled against a wall, where Murphy had thrown her.

But he’d broken her spine before that. Morgan knew why. He’d made that threat clear, in the rain, as he’d taken hold of Liberty. And the impulsive fucking detective had _headbutted_ him. She was never going to be a quiet and cooperative hostage. She hadn’t been even after he’d tried to break her spirit, along with her back.

But- Morgan had been beaten. If she hadn’t been, if she’d had been able to keep Murphy from touching Liberty, there wouldn’t be the need for enchanted wire around each joint and bone, just to keep the facade of health at work. Liberty’s job- her current life wouldn’t be at risk from the turmoil that discovery might bring. It’s obvious to the Unit the differences in her gait, the stiffness as she continues to adjust to the Agency-provided assistive magics. But to everyone else at Wayhaven Police Department- she has to distract them from noticing that anything happened to her when she took down Murphy.

She shakes her head slightly, dismissing the thought. It must be the oddity of what she’s helping with, throwing her thoughts in such an odd direction. Murphy’s at fault for this, no-one else.

It’s finally done. As Morgan finishes unwinding the wire around the other ankle, Liberty pushes herself up. Morgan sits back to watch as she unfastens the belt, setting it to the side. She gathers her legs together, carefully sliding them to the side and under the sheet. Then she sighs, and stretches back in the bed. Apparently her bedtime preparations don’t require pyjamas tonight. Morgan isn’t about to complain.

“Put it in the bowl,” she says. Morgan blinks- then realises she’s still holding the ball of wire. She’d gotten caught up in staring again, enjoying the sight of Liberty stretching out. She follows the direction of Liberty’s nod, seeing a decorative bowl set on the bedside table, where the belt has already been dropped. The ball is deposited, and Liberty closes her eyes. “You staying?” she murmurs, words growing fuzzier as sleep starts to take hold.

“...wasn’t planning on it,” Morgan replies, with a shrug.

“Mm’kay.” She doesn’t sound bothered by the departure. There’s a soft smile on Liberty’s lips- and then she’s asleep, her heartbeat smoothing out, chest rising and falling gently. 

Morgan watches. Then she slides off the bed quietly, and goes to find her clothes. They’re scattered across the apartment, along the trail the two of them had followed on their way to the bedroom. By the time she reaches the front door she’s fully dressed, and then she stops, looking back across the apartment, towards Liberty’s bedroom door.

It’s an odd realisation. She finally got what she was after. And that should be the end of this wanting.

But it isn’t.

♛ ♥ ♛

It’s warm and bright when Liberty wakes. Not the diffused light of morning, but the afternoon sun stretching through her windows uninterrupted. She’s sprawled and curled into the mounds of cushions and pillows at the head of her bed, and as she stretches her arms and settles there’s the soft memories of the night before to draw a sleepy smile to her face. Does the bed still smell of Morgan’s presence? She thinks so- though that might be more the passing fancy, cousin to the soft dreams that filled her sleep.

Unexpectedly, she’s disappointed. Not at all about the experience, or the choices made. But to not find Morgan still there, to not be able to tug her closer. It’s strange. She’s never been one to cuddle much. But perhaps her previous bedmates weren’t worth such things. No- there’s no perhaps about it.

She draws a deep breath, and folds away the dreaming, fanciful thoughts, and focuses instead on waking. She rolls herself over onto her back, and then levers her upper body up. Then it’s a matter of the awkward shuffle to the side of the bed, and to reach down and under it.

She keeps her wheelchair there. It’s not too heavy or awkward to pull out, and unfold for when she needs it. Unexpected visitors to her apartment have become too common to leave it out, and run the risk that someone like _Bobby_ might catch sight of it.

It would all be easier if she hadn’t decided she wanted to keep her job. Wayhaven might be a quiet town, and Liberty was good at getting her way, but even she didn’t think that she could manage to convince the Captain and Mayor that she could do her job just as well in a wheelchair.

She transfers off the bed and into the chair. It’s hard. She’s always maintained her fitness, but she hasn’t ever quite needed the level of upper body strength to regularly pull about her own body weight. She’s started going to the gym again, and focusing on those areas, but it will take a long while before these motions feel at all practiced. Even longer than most, given how much of her time she ends up just using the wire.

She doesn’t like the wire. She’ll never say that to anyone, certainly never said as much to Elidor as he was helping teach her how to use it while she was in recovery. She’d pushed so hard to get a solution _fast_ , after all- to have as much time to work on learning to make use of it before she had to return to her old life. And even then, she wasn’t expecting how much she’d come to dislike it.

Perhaps it was suddenly being alone with it. Knowing that her life relied on a piece of metal she didn’t understand. All the anger in the world won’t change what Murphy did to her, but it’s easier to focus on moving on when she can understand how her new life works. And if she buys a wheelchair, if she orders new showerheads, if she can move her furniture so she can wheel about wherever she needs to go, she’s not hanging her life on a thread that could break or fail when she least expects it, and needs it most.

Her phone buzzes on her way to the bathroom. It’s Adam. _‘Research has been set up. Meet us at the warehouse.’_

Good. She sets her phone back down and continues on. Work to fill the weekend. Just what she needs right now.


End file.
